I'm Not Broken
by FaithInSnape
Summary: Snape receives tragic news and returns to his childhood home only to learn that, sometimes, the past is better left unremembered. Possibly AU.
1. The Bad News

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to say that I am the genius mastermind behind the entire Harry Potter phenomenon, and as much as I would _love_ to have Jo's bank account, alas, I am not and do not. I am just a girl who felt a burst of midnight inspiration to try her hand at writing a fanfic.

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic. If you decide to review it, please be nice? Thanks! lol :P

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**"I'm Not Broken"**  
By: FaithInSnape

**Chapter One:** The Bad News

It was that time again. The beginning of a new school year at Hogwarts, which meant lots of new students who would whisper and stare whenever Severus Snape passed them in a corridor. Snape had never been a 'looker,' but it was more than his physical features that caused the new students to shy away from him. There was an air about Severus Snape. One of authority and danger. One that hinted at a dark side that you did not want to be in the presence of. One look into his cold, black eyes could unnerve even the most fearless of students.

Professor Snape's reputation as a stern, perhaps even malicious, professor always preceded even his first class of each school year. Due to this reputation, his presence alone was enough to keep each student silent and attentive, without Snape having spoken a single word. Severus didn't mind this, though, because it kept him from having to waste half of the class period explaining his 'class rules' like the other professors usually had to do on the first day of class. Without the unnecessary introductory rule setting, Professor Snape was able to dive right into the material.

"Open your textbooks to page two hundred, twenty-three," Snape said sternly as he strode across the front of the classroom. He watched as the students flipped open their texts. Even the simple act of opening their textbooks could tell Professor Snape a lot about a student. The speed of which they flipped the pages told him their level of interest in the subject of Potions, the expression on their face told him whether or not they thought they were above simple textbook work, and if he ever caught a student communicating to another, whether it be by whispering or note-passing, he knew them to be arrogant. Only arrogant children could be in his presence and not show him the respect that both he and his reputation demanded and deserved. Snape was glad to see each student hastily flip to the assigned page.

"We will be learning about Forgetfulness Potion today," Snape began as his eyes slowly scanned the room. "This potion makes the drinker forget things, _obviously_," the last word drawn out in his trademark way. "And while it is a relatively harmless potion -" He stopped midsentence as there was a knock on the dungeon door.

With a flick of his wand, Snape opened the door to reveal a small boy, frozen in place as if terrified to actually enter the room. "Yes?" The boy seemed too frightened by Snape and the rather unusual room decorations to speak. "Well?" Snape barked, quickly losing his patience with the boy. "Uh...P-Professor D-Dumbledore needs to see you, Sir" was all the boy was able to get out before quickly turning to leave the dungeons.

_"What now?"_ Snape thought hastily, though he knew that it wasn't like Dumbledore to suddenly call Snape out of a class unless something of considerable importance had occurred, and even then it was rare and _never_ on the first day of classes. "Read the entire chapter on the legal and illegal uses of the Forgetfulness potion. When I return, I expect there to be no sign that I had ever left this room," he warned before swiftly heading for the Headmaster's office.

"Fizzing Whizbees," Snape said to the gargoyle guarding the hidden staircase. Once the staircase had opened, Snape quickly ascended to Dumbledore's office. "You called for me, sir?" he inquired. "Yes, Severus. You may want to sit down for this," the elder man said. Now more curious than ever, Snape sat in the closest chair and waited for the Headmaster to continue.

"I have just received a rather tragic owl, Severus," he began. "It seems your mother has been in an accident. One she didn't survive, I'm afraid." Never one to be open with his emotions, Severus simply watched the elderly Headmaster, showing no emotion on his face. Though, if one looked closely enough, they would have noticed Snape's intense grip on the arms of his chair.

"I know you have not been close to her as of late, but because you are her son and only living relative, it is only fitting that you be excused from your teaching responsibilities to attend to this matter." "But, Sir -" Snape began, but he was immediately cut off. "I've taken care of everything, Severus. Slughorn will be filling in during your absence." Snape wasn't thrilled with his replacement, but, admittedly, it could've been much worse. Still showing no emotion regarding the news of his Mother's death, Snape stood up and quietly headed for the door.

As Snape opened the door, Dumbledore spoke once more, "I'm sorry for your loss." He paused a moment before adding, "And Severus, please know that it is acceptable to allow yourself to grieve." Snape simply nodded as he left the Headmaster's office, letting the door close softly behind him.


	2. No Use For Boxes

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to say that I am the genius mastermind behind the entire Harry Potter phenomenon, and as much as I would _love_ to have Jo's bank account, alas, I am not and do not. I am just a girl who felt a burst of midnight inspiration to try her hand at writing a fanfic.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I tried to make this chapter a bit longer and get a bit further into the story. Hopefully, it's ok!

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**"I'm Not Broken"**  
By: FaithInSnape

**Chapter Two:** No Use For Boxes

Severus Snape stood on the sidewalk outside of a small house in an overwhelming state of disrepair. He hadn't been here in what seemed like ages. Snape had never loved this house; it was dark, musky, and held too many painful memories. He _had_ loved his mother, though. She was the only reason he ever visited this god forsaken place since he had come of age and moved out to escape his tyrant of a father.

Snape inwardly flinched at the thought of his mother. The fact that she was now gone from this earth didn't bother him for he knew she had not had an easy life, and in death, she had finally found her escape from all. But what _did_ bother him was that he had let so much time go by since the last time he had come to visit with her. He hoped she had never thought he didn't love her or that he was purposely avoiding her. Hurting his mother was never Severus' intention, he just hated the feeling he got from being in this house.

Because it always unsettled Snape to come to this house, he constantly came up with excuses for his lack of visits whenever his mother sent an owl. _"Severus, I missed you coming by on your birthday this year. Please visit me when you get a chance. I love you."_ He had replied with a quickly scribbled _"I'm sorry, I had a teacher's meeting. I'll try to come by soon. I love you, too."_ Though, at the time, he had had no intention of coming by any time 'soon' and now, it was too late. She was gone.

Snape knew that regret served no purpose, so he promptly pushed his current train of thought out of his mind and took a deep breath before entering the old house. As his dark eyes scanned the room, he noticed everything was exactly as it had been the last time he was here. The paint on the walls was still peeling, the creaking floor was still dirty, and even the window on the far wall was still cracked.

Walking further into the house, Snape passed several hanging portraits of him as a young boy, in which he was actually smiling, believe it or not. Nowadays, he felt he no longer had the ability to smile. He had hidden his smile away years ago or perhaps it had even been stolen from him, he couldn't really remember. All that was left was an empty man with a permanent scowl, or at least that's what everyone thought. No one cared enough to bring back his smile. No one had _ever_ cared about the smiling young boy in these photos. No one but _her_.

Looking around the room, Snape wondered what exactly he was supposed to do with all of the mementos left behind by his mother. He didn't have room for it all in his home, yet the thought of trashing it seemed rather cruel and disrespectful. Even Severus Snape had more heart than to simply trash his mother's belongings the day after her death. Perhaps he could pack it all up, perform a shrinking spell, and keep it hidden away in his closet, even though he had no plans to ever get it out again.

Severus Snape was no 'sentimental fool.' He did not pull out old boxes of heirlooms and 'reminisce' about the past, as foolish people were prone to do. In fact, Snape _had_ no boxes of personal mementos, no reminders of his past. Everything he cared to remember was stored away in the recesses of his mind. He liked it that way, it kept prying eyes out of his business in a world where evil men paraded around claiming things that did not belong to them. And the lack of physical evidence of his past paired with his great occulumency skills, made certain that even the greatest legilimens in the world would have trouble discovering all that made Severus Snape who he is.

Sighing deeply, Snape conjured a few boxes and began removing the photos from the walls, leaving behind a pattern of dustless shapes in their place. Eileen Snape had been much too feeble in her later years to do much cleaning herself with no house elf to help her, and she had lost most of her magical ability long ago at the domineering hands of Severus' father, Tobias Snape. The man whose name alone caused a deep, burning rage in the pit of Severus Snape's stomach. He had hated his father more than he thought humanly possible. His father was long gone, though, so Snape tried to remove the name from his mind as he continued removing old photos from the walls.

Once Severus had cleared the walls and shelves of the living area, he grabbed a box and hesitantly walked into his mother's bedroom. He really wasn't looking forward to entering this part of the house. He knew it would hold too many reminders of the one person who loved him unconditionally. And as expected, the moment he stepped into the room, Severus was overcome with memories of his mother.

Her favorite sweater was lying on the side of her bed as if she had just removed it and immediately, his mind displayed various images from his childhood of a somewhat younger Eileen Snape smiling at him, the small, dark blue sweater accentuating her gaunt frame.

Her favorite robe was hanging on the closet door, as if she had been planning to wear it later. As the sweater had done, the mere sight of the robe caused his mind to be filled with memories of his mother putting on her robe and pulling it snuggly around her as she prepared to apparate them to Diagon Alley to pick up his required school supplies.

For a moment, Severus Snape began to feel overwhelmed by the memories rapidly flooding his mind. For one tiny second, he felt what he thought was a tear come to his eye, but he quickly blinked and told himself he had imagined it. Severus would not cry, he was much too strong. Tears were a sign of weakness. Besides, death was but the next great adventure, as Albus Dumbledore always says. It was not a reason for tears. Not that he had any to shed. His tears had dried up long ago, around the same time he lost the ability to smile.

Knowing that actions would busy his mind and keep it from wandering too deeply into the parts of his memory that he no longer cared to go, Severus began emptying his mother's closet. Fortunately, Eileen had not been much into fashion and kept the bare minimum amount of clothes and robes. Of course, even if she _had_ been into fashion, the Snapes hardly had the money to spend on extravagant clothing styles.

As Severus loaded the last group of his mother's clothes into the nearly full box, something in the back of the closet caught his eye. He quickly closed up the box of clothes and tapped it with his wand, causing it to shrink small enough to be placed in his pocket, before stepping once more into the closet to retrieve the small item lying on the floor.

Examining it closely, it appeared to be a tiny box. His first instinct, of course, was to simply place it in his pocket along with the box of clothing. After all, it was not his box and he was not the type of person to plunder through someone else's private belongings. Especially not his mother's. Though, something about this box seemed oddly familiar.

Severus turned the small box over in his hand several times before placing it in his pocket, deciding that he would explore the contents of the mysterious box once he was back in his own home. He didn't want to stay in this house any longer than necessary.

An hour later, having boxed up all of Eileen Snape's personal possessions, Severus Snape tapped the full boxes, shrinking each of them down to the size of a muggle matchbox and placed them all in his pocket. Wrapping his robes tightly around his body, Severus looked around the empty room one last time.

_"Goodbye."_

It was just one word, barely even audible, but to Severus, it was an earnest farewell to everything this house represented: his long forgotten childhood and, most especially, his mother.

Without another word, the somber young man disappeared leaving only an empty shell of a house behind.


	3. The Name

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to say that I am the genius mastermind behind the entire Harry Potter phenomenon, and as much as I would _love_ to have Jo's bank account, alas, I am not and do not. I am just a girl who felt a burst of midnight inspiration to try her hand at writing a fanfic.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the story so far. I finally decided to upload the third chapter that I had written from ages ago, though I added a little bit to it to make it a little longer. I'm not sure how it turned out, though, so I apologize in advance if it sucks. lol

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**"I'm Not Broken"**  
By: FaithInSnape

**Chapter Three:** The Name

After placing his mother's boxed-up belongings in a safe place in his closet, Severus Snape sat down wearily in his favorite chair in the corner of his living area. His eyes were immediately drawn to the small box sitting on the table to his right. He had _almost_ placed the box in the closet along with the others, but something prevented him from doing so. Severus had a feeling that there was _something_ in this box that he needed to see. It was almost as if the box had been calling out to him. Except for the fact that boxes don't talk. But then again, in the wizarding world, anything is possible. No, he was certain that this box had definitely not been talking to him in the literal sense.

Now doubting his own sanity, Snape leaned his head back on his chair and closed his eyes. He couldn't understand why one tiny box, one that looked rather ordinary, was peaking his curiosity so. He knew the old saying, 'curiosity killed the cat,' and knew it to be quite true (who could forget that rather unfortunate incident involving a cat-animagi and a muggle automobile?), yet he still couldn't take his mind off of the mysterious box.

Opening his eyes once more, Snape glanced around at his humble home. To some, this small, dark residence would seem rather dreary, but to Severus Snape, this was the way he liked it. He had never been one for extravagance. Big, fancy homes with lavish furnishings had never appealed to him. In his opinion, people who were overly showy in their belongings were obviously compensating for a lack of _something_, be it brains, talents, or something more _personal_.

Severus Snape was not lacking in _any_ respect and therefore felt no need to flaunt his talent or wealth, not that he had any wealth. The meager teacher's salary he earned from spending his days teaching those lazy dunderheads, known as his students, barely kept him in decent robes. But he did have talent and lots of it. Even during his own days as a Hogwarts student, his talents for potions were evident, so there was no need for him to flaunt them.

Again, Snape's eyes wandered over to the small box. It couldn't be much larger than a ring box, so what could possibly be in it that was of any importance? His mother didn't own any jewelry, none that he knew of, anyway. Perhaps he should just open the box and get it over with, solve the great mystery of 'the box.' For some reason, he felt he wasn't ready to do that yet.

Severus stood up and walked to the bathroom. He examined his own loathsome reflection for a few seconds before splashing his face with a handful of ice cold water. He was going to go insane if he didn't open that damned box soon.

Striding over to the table, determined to get this over with, he picked up the small box and promptly lifted the lid. The box was practically empty except for what appeared to be a folded sheet of parchment. Feeling somewhat disappointed that he had been so tense for nothing, Severus lifted the parchment from the box and began to unfold it.

Severus Snape had never seen such a horrible attempt at drawing before. The lines were horribly crooked, the colors were all wrong, and it looked as if it had been drawn by a child. _'A child who was obviously not destined for a career in art,'_ he thought. The drawing was simply of two scribbles that could possibly represent two dark-haired humans, holding hands.

There was nothing exceptional about this drawing. And for all he knew, he himself had been the artist. He had never had a steady hand, even his handwriting was, and still is, tiny and cramped. Perhaps his mother had found this drawing and decided to keep it for sentimental reasons? But why would she have hidden it away in the back of her closet? What was so special about _this_ drawing?

Snape started to dispose of it when he noticed a small scribble of words along the bottom of the parchment. The script was very similar to his own, but yet somehow different. He had to squint his eyes to make out the words, but the moment Severus realized what the tiny writing said, his breath caught: _Sera Snape_.

As Snape read the name to himself over and over, he struggled against the flood of thoughts that were starting to engulf him. Thoughts he hadn't entertained in decades. A few of them made him want to smile, but most of the thoughts that accompanied that name had the opposite effect. They made him want to throw something across the room. Or, even worse, resume his _old activies._ But he had made promises to people that he wouldn't go back on. No matter how overwhelming the craving was.

Knowing that he needed to calm himself down before he ended up doing something he would eventually regret, Snape walked back over to his chair and sat down, the parchment still clutched tightly in his hand. Though even the familiarity of his chair failed to relax him this time, as he sat hunched forward, his elbows on his knees and one fist posed beneath his chin and struggled to block out all of the dark visions _that name_ was bringing to his mind. _Her name._ The girl who had been the bane of his childhood.

Snape was sure that the memory of that girl would be the death of him, unless he did something about it. But who did _he_ have to talk to? Who would care about the distressing memories of the acid tongued Potionsmaster? No one. But even so, he knew that if he didn't talk to someone, he would surely go insane by daybreak. With that thought in mind, he quickly stood up and headed for the door, leaving the small drawing lying on the floor behind him. 


End file.
